CoVid-19 and the future of Church


Update: I have added another post from Brian Zahnd that Scott Lencke refers to in the comments.

There have been a few interesting posts circulating in the ether over the past week.

 

First up to the plate was Carey Nieuwhof last Monday with his astonishing post that nearly half of American churches were experiencing church growth through their virtual services over the past month.

For those not familiar with Nieuwhof, he is a Canadian church growth specialist who has a large internet presence.  Here is some of what he had to say. The points below are what he encouraged his readers to re-tweet:

  • Half of all churches, regardless of church size—from very small churches (under 100) to megachurches—are experiencing growth during the pandemic. It’s remarkable that this is true if you have 75 people attending, 750 or 7500.
  • Church leaders need to realize (fast) that the people joining you online are not just your people, they’re new people. Curious people. Unchurched people. Lapsed Christians. Atheists. Agnostics.
  • Instead of seeing online church as an obstacle, many church leaders are realizing it’s an unprecedented opportunity. The people you prayed would show up are showing up, just not how you expected.
  • In 2020, life slips between the digital and the physical, and then physical slips back into digital. We all live there. So will the future church.
  • In the future, the church will meet any time, anywhere, and sometimes meet in person.
  • Online church transcends geographic, physical and time barriers in a way that physical church simply can’t.
  • Here’s the reality of life on the internet: you can reach thousands or millions of people using the phone in your pocket for almost zero additional dollars.
  • Digital may seem intimidating and expensive, but it’s far cheaper and easier than most church leaders think. Just ask any 14-year-old YouTuber.

Most of what Nieuwhof says rings true.  My parents little country church had 170 viewing of their Easter Sunday service, some of these views represented more than one set of eyes, and that was much higher than they would normally get at an Easter Service.  I attend an Anabaptist megachurch, where we use movie theaters to typically see the previous Sunday’s sermon our Easter Sunday sermon views have topped the 10,000 mark, with yesterday’s sermon viewed by about 60 percent of that.  The little country church had a similar drop off in numbers.

But while it rings true, not all are convinced it is a good thing.

Author and speaker Mike Frost is worried that the “Coronavirus could set back the church 25  years.”  Mike has a very different viewpoint to Carey Nieuwhof:

My grave fear is that this spike in online attendance will be as illusory as the growth of megachurches last century. It will serve to mask the reality that less and less people are devoted to a wholehearted commitment to Christ, and more and more people see church as an event, a shot in the arm, a convenient uplift that doesn’t challenge their everyday life in any way.

There’s an old marketing saying that goes, “What you win them with, you win them to.”

If you’re winning people to a ten or fifteen minute viewing of a prepackaged worship and teaching experience, devoid of community, mission, correction, reconciliation or justice, you’re not growing the church. You’re fostering religious consumers.

And while I am not trying to do a cop-out, I think that Frost makes some good points too.

Internet Monk friend and occasional writer Scott Lencke, picked up on both of articles on Wednesday, in a well thought out article he commented:

I don’t believe a whole new swath of people suddenly think that the church may have the answers to what they are experiencing. Some, yes. But not as a whole.

What I think the massive upswing in attendance is primarily about is easy access. Church in our pj’s, disheveled hair, and morning breath is so much easier than getting a family of five out of bed, fed, cleaned, dressed, out the door, and to the building within a certain time frame. I know. Been there, done that. Will do that post-pandemic. If we were able to be transported to our church’s gathering with a wave of a wand, having also been properly freshened and dressed, I imagine attendance would have risen a while ago.

…I’d postulate that if live streaming continues for all churches for years to come, those “attendance” numbers would flatten out, if not dip like they were falling pre-Coronavirus. Again, many want a product and if the product has lost its luster, we become disinterested.

It was Scott’s last paragraph that really caught my attention:

In all, as we all continue through this very challenging pandemic, may the Spirit be very real in leading our leaders and the church as a whole. Yet, even more, as we come out of this on the other side, whether in the summer or later in the year, may the Spirit’s voice be equally clearer, if not more. We need wise discernment in these days.

Before responding to Scott’s final comment here, I wanted to draw your attention one last post.  On Saturday, Ken Braddy, of Lifeway Christian Resources had a post entitled “24 Questions Your Church Should Answer Before People Return.”  In his post he discussed things like finances, passing of the offering plate, coffee time, volunteer staffing, children’s church, greeters at the door, size of gathering, etc. All very practical stuff.

How different his post sounded from Scott’s last paragraph!  What is the Spirit calling us to do?

Over this last month I have been struck with how many seniors have been left lonely and abandoned.  This was not something new.  It is just that CoVid-19 drew our attention to just how bad it was.

I also have thought of prisoners, restrained to their cells and fearing for their lives.  For most, their crimes do not deserve life sentences, yet that is what a number will be facing.

I think of the need for counselors to assist those who will have PTSD as a result of this.

I think of the desire to keep in closer touch with loved ones.  I visited my parents a month ago.  I knew then that I might not get to visit them again for a long time.

I think of friends who have had a parent die and aren’t able to hold a funeral.

I think of building relationships with neighbours as we help each other through very difficult times.

I think of those who have lost jobs and risk losing homes.

What is the Spirit saying to us the church in all of this? Where is the church in all of this? How is the church going to respond? How should the church respond?

What do you think?  I would encourage you to read the linked articles.  None of them are long.  Then come back and give us your thoughts and comments.

As always they are very welcome.

P.S. Here is another post that you might want to consider. On Thursday Brian Zahnd wrote:

Don’t let a pandemic turn you into a gnostic.

To prefer digital over enfleshed is a gnostic move; it’s a move away from what it means to be human; it’s an insult to the Incarnation. Gnosticism — the first and most persistent Christian heresy — is a complex set of dualisms, but at its core Gnosticism believes that the telos of salvation is a pure spiritual (virtual?) existence. Gnostic salvation is to be relieved from the burden of having to live in a material world. It’s the Gnostic, not the orthodox Christian, who will say, “this world is not my home, I’m just passing through.” The Gnostic, not the orthodox Christian, wants to escape this world and fly off to the Platonic heaven of the perfect forms. Christianity, on the other hand, says something very different.

God created an actual world, not a virtual world. And God declares that the actual world of creation is very good. God wants Adam and Eve (humanity) to live in his good world, not just watch it on a screen. The redemption of the world is found in the mystery that the Word became flesh, not computer code. The blessed hope of the Christian faith is resurrection and the restoration of all things, not an escape to a non-temporal, non-corporal spiritual (virtual?) afterlife.

Richard Beck on God’s Power

Richard Beck on God’s Power
From God’s Omnipotence: Part 6, Beyond a Marvel Imagination of Power

…[W]hen we speak of God being “all powerful” we should not think of God being the Biggest Power within the universe. God isn’t a superpower.

If I could wade into some nerdy waters, an illustration from the Marvel comic book universe might be helpful here.

There’s a hierarchy of powers in the Marvel universe. Some superheros have significant but local powers. Like Spider-Man. Spider-Man is powerful, but he can’t, for example, destroy a planet or manipulate space and time. Spider-Man’s power isn’t cosmic, it’s a local power (which is why he’s your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man). But above Spider-Man in the Marvel universe there are powers that are cosmic in scope. There are agents that have the power to manipulate the fabric of reality itself. Think of Thanos with all the Infinity Stones: a snap of his fingers and reality itself can be changed. And in the Marvel universe there are agents even stronger than Thanos with the Infinity Gauntlet: The Living Tribunal, the Beyonder, and the greatest power of all in the Marvel canon, the One-Above-All.

What we see displayed in the Marvel universe is the human imagination trying to imagine greater and greater powers until we reach an ultimate power, an all-powerful being, an omnipotent being. And yet, according to Thomas Aquinas, this vision of an all-powerful being is only like God analogically. At the end of the day, God is nothing like Thanos with the Infinity Stones or the One-Above-All.

To revisit the question from the end of the last post, perhaps our problems with God’s power stems from the fact that our imaginations about power and what being “all-powerful” would look like are too much like what we see in Marvel comics. [emphasis mine] We pray to God as if God is like Thanos with the Infinity Stones, asking God to snap his fingers to grant our requests. And that imagination–where we push the analogy of human power too far in talking about God–creates all the puzzles we have with God’s power. Why, we ask, does God-as-Thanos snap or not snap His fingers for us?

I expect most of us would recoil at the suggestion that prayer is fundamentally like asking Thanos to snap his fingers. And yet, isn’t this exactly the imagination at work behind every single problem we have with God’s power? From petitionary prayer to miracles to theodicy to every question we have about God’s influence and activity in our lives?

But what if God’s power is nothing like Thanos snapping his fingers?

In fact, following Aquinas, we do know that God is nothing like Thanos snapping his fingers. So we should reject any issue or question about God’s power–from prayer, to miracles to theodicy–that rests upon that imagination and assumption.

But if that’s the case, if the Thanos analogy is breaking down for us, keeping us snarled in theological debates, what sort of analogy might help us better think about God’s power? That’s what Sonderegger is hunting for, an analogy for God’s power that allows us to worship and praise God for being “all powerful,” but one that avoids the Marvel imagination of power.

Thomas Nashe: In Time of Plague

St. Roch Praying to the Virgin for an End to the Plague Jaques-Louis David

In Time of Plague
By Thomas Nashe

Adieu, farewell, earth’s bliss;
This world uncertain is;
Fond are life’s lustful joys;
Death proves them all but toys;
None from his darts can fly;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Rich men, trust not in wealth,
Gold cannot buy you health;
Physic himself must fade.
All things to end are made,
The plague full swift goes by;
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Beauty is but a flower
Which wrinkles will devour;
Brightness falls from the air;
Queens have died young and fair;
Dust hath closed Helen’s eye.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!

Strength stoops unto the grave,
Worms feed on Hector’s brave;
Swords may not fight with fate,
Earth still holds ope her gate.
“Come, come!” the bells do cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us.

Wit with his wantonness
Tasteth death’s bitterness;
Hell’s executioner
Hath no ears for to hear
What vain art can reply.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us.

Haste, therefore, each degree,
To welcome destiny;
Heaven is our heritage,
Earth but a player’s stage;
Mount we unto the sky.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us.

Wendell Berry: “Work flowerlike”

In the Wood. Photo by Nathalie at Flickr. Creative Commons License

Shall we do without hope? Some days
there will be none. But now
to the dry and dead woods floor
they come again, the first
flowers of the year, the assembly
of the faithful, the beautiful,
wholly given to being.
And in this long season
of machines and mechanical will
there have been small human acts
of compassion, acts of care, work
flowerlike in selfless loveliness.
Leaving hope to the dark
and to a better day,
receive these beauties freely
given, and give thanks.

 

• Wendell Berry. Leavings: Poems

 

Debunking Conspiracies

Debunking Conspiracies

On the BioLogos Forum, Matthew Pevarnik has an article discussing his frustration with conspiracy theories concerning the COVID-19 pandemic, especially originating from Christians.  He cites an especially egregious piece (found here) where the “minister” has a dream that Dr. Anthony Fauci turns into a “rat”, because… something… something… plot against the president… something…  Matthew says, “This basically made me livid, with basically encouraging Christians to be suspicious of rats in the White House- which included probably one of the most important voices for Christians to listen to in the nation.”  Yeah, Matthew, me too.

Right now, on my Facebook feed, are some Christian friends who are promoting and spreading some video that purports to prove the Chinese manufactured COVID-19 as some kind of bio-weapon.  Sheesh!  Why are some Christians so prone to conspiracy theories?  What drives that tendency?  Sometimes it’s harmless, but right now it can have serious consequences.  According to this Washington Post article security for Dr. Fauci had to be increased because he was facing growing threats to his personal safety.  That so-called “prophetic dream” is contributing to that atmosphere of threat to health officials like Dr. Fauci.

The World Health Organization has a whole myth-busting page dedicated to false claims about the coronavirus.  Look over that list – how many of those myths have you seen being spread by Christians?

It’s a sad truth that any kind of crisis seems to spread a pandemic of misinformation. In the 80s, 90s, and 2000s we saw the spread of dangerous lies about Aids – from the belief that the HIV virus was created by a government laboratory to the idea that the HIV tests were unreliable, and especially the spectacularly unfounded theories of how it could be treated.  These claims increased risky behavior and exacerbated the crisis.  And so with the coronavirus crisis, misinformation abounds, including everything from what caused the outbreak to how you can prevent becoming ill.

But even seemingly innocuous ideas could lure people into a false sense of security, discouraging them from adhering to government guidelines, and eroding trust in health officials and other organizations that are based on science.

Christians, of all people, shouldn’t be part of the spread of misinformation.  They just shouldn’t be.  We are supposed to be people of truth – aren’t we supposed to be following He who is TRUTH?  I get the tendency to just put one’s head down and avoid confrontation.  But don’t.  Do your best to correct misinformation and encourage people to follow the science and not the emotions or the politics.

I believe it’s our sacred responsibility.

Wednesday with Michael Spencer: “That’s my trash can in the corner, and what you’re smelling is what I finally threw out.”

Taking out the trash. Photo by Robert S. at Flickr. Creative Commons License

Wednesday with Michael Spencer
That’s my trash can in the corner, and what you’re smelling is what I finally threw out. (2009)

I believe what Christians believe. It’s what my life is founded on.

My Christian faith is like a map. It tells me where I am, who I am, where I’ve been, where I’m going and what it’s all about.

But I don’t believe everything Christians teach. I don’t believe everything I used to believe. Maybe it’s my own critical, skeptical nature. Maybe it’s the “sola scriptura” Protestant in me. Maybe it’s living awhile and drawing some conclusions. Maybe it’s learning something about what matters.

Maybe it’s the Holy Spirit.

Or maybe, as some of you will conclude, I’m some kind of post modern jellyfish who quits the team when things get tough. One of those post-evangelical emerging liberals who prefers a big hug to a good systematic theology lecture.

I don’t understand our loyalty to things that make God so unlike the one who revealed God on earth. Why we take on whole planks of Christianity that Jesus wouldn’t endorse or recognize.

Personal reference. When I discovered that God wasn’t going to stop something that I believed with all my heart and mind he had to stop, I was really pulled up short. My “map” was well worn with 30+ years of telling who I was and what God was supposed to do for me.

And now, I was discovering that my map was flawed. I’d believed it, and I had a choice. I could deny what was happening around me, in me and in others.

Or I could throw out some theology.

That meant admitting some of my teachers were wrong. Or at the least, didn’t know all there was to know.

It meant that some of what I was sure God had showed to me wasn’t God at all. It was me, or someone else.

I was wrong. My theology was wrong. My collection of Bible verses was wrong.

I hadn’t quite arrived. I didn’t have all the answers.

Part of my misery in the situation I was facing was my collection of theology.

There’s a moment when you realize things aren’t as certain as you thought they were. It’s a scary moment, and you want to blame someone. This collection of verses, statements and opinions was supposed to keep this from happening. The right theology was supposed to keep the sky from falling; it was supposed to keep the trap doors from opening up under my feet.

It makes more than a few people angry to hear that following Jesus is less like math and more like white water rafting. It’s less like writing down the right answers to a test and more like trusting yourself into the hands of a doctor. It’s less like standing on concrete and more like bungee jumping.

It’s less like what you think it is and lot more like something you never thought about.

Some of you have been beating your head against the wall of your bad theology for years. You’ve beaten your head against that wall until you aren’t a very pleasant person to be around. You’ve made yourself and some other people miserable. You’ve been like the Pharisees: you gave others the burden you’d chosen to carry and more. You’ve taken your misery and made others more miserable.

You’ve blamed others. You’ve silently accused God. You’ve sat there, arrogantly, insisting that you were right no matter what was happening. You’ve sought out arguments to assure yourself that you were right.

But the whole time, there was the trash, and some of that trash was theology that needed to go.

I’ve thrown out some of my theology, and I haven’t replaced it all. As much as I would like to know the answer to some questions, I’ve concluded I’m not going to know the answer to them all. I’ve concluded that lots of the theology I’ve been exposed to and taught falls considerably far shorter of perfection than I ever imagined. Some of it hasn’t served anyone very well. Some of it was nothing more than my way of jumping on a passing bandwagon.

…I believe a lot of things. I could teach through a course on theology without any problems. But the difference between myself now and myself in the past is that much of that theology is less essential than it used to be. It does not equal God and I won’t speak as if it does. I won’t pretend that my own thoughts about God are the place I ought to stop and announce what God is always thinking and doing.

Hopefully, it’s going to be a lot easier to have a theological housecleaning. In the future, I don’t plan to fall for the flattery that I’ve never changed my mind or said “I don’t know.”

I know. That’s me. The way too emotional, way too flexible, over-reacting Internet Monk. Baptist one day. Calvinist the next. Catholic tomorrow. Talking about being “Jesus shaped,” whatever that means.

And that’s my trash can in the corner, and what you’re smelling is what I finally threw out.

It was long overdue.

By the way, guess what? I’m still here, believing. Following Jesus, loving Jesus, wanting more of Jesus than ever before.

I don’t recommend my path be your path. I only ask if you’ve opened yourself to the possibility that a spiritual renovation in your life can’t keep all the old junk. Yes, you may upset someone or some important, self-validating group. You may, for a moment, wonder if you know who you are and where you are. It may frighten you to consider that Brother so and so or a sincere family member were wrong.

You may not be excited to discover that all that accumulated trash does not equal God.

I hope that soon you are excited. I am sad to see and hear some of you involved with a God that increasingly holds you hostage in a theological extortion scheme.

That’s not the God who came to us in Jesus. It’s not.

There’s more. He is more. Your journey is more.

Another Look – Sad of heart

Compassion, Bouguereau

Easter Monday
Another Look: Sad of heart (Luke 24)

“They stopped, their faces drawn with misery…” (Luke 24:18).

When we meet our friends on the road to Emmaus, we can see that they are sad of heart. Their faces are downcast, their voices hushed, their shoulders slumped. The two are absorbed in a serious conversation punctuated by sighs and shaking heads.

Sad. So sad. Indeed, so sad their sorrow keeps them from seeing Jesus when he comes alongside them.

So sad they can’t believe there’s a person alive who doesn’t know about the events that made their world collapse.

So sad they are sure all their hopes had been dashed.

So sad they can’t stop talking about their painful experience, can’t stop obsessing about it, can’t make sense of any of it.

And when strange news came from women who went to the tomb and found his body missing — well, that was just crazy talk! Insult added to injury. Grief now irritated by impossible, incredible tales.

So sad.

Henri Nouwen reminds us that loss is part of the very fabric of every life.

If there is any word that summarizes well our pain, it is the word “loss.” We have lost so much! Sometimes it even seems that life is just one long series of losses. When we were born we lost the safety of the womb, when we went to school we lost the security of our family life, when we got our first job we lost the freedom of youth, when we got married or ordained we lost the joy of many options, and when we grew old we lost our good looks, our old friends, or our fame. When we became weak or ill, we lost our physical independence, and when we die we will lose it all!

…What to do with our losses? That’s the first question that faces us.

• Henri Nouwen, With Burning Hearts

As painful as our natural losses may be, the losses these disciples mourned represented even more than personal grief. They had lost their religion. Their hope, their prospects, the anticipated course of their lives. Their hopes of God’s Kingdom coming — and it had seemed so near! — were now crushed. Their dreams of a new world of peace and justice emerging in their lifetime evaporated.

The trust they had placed in the Man who seemed to fit the role of Messiah perfectly now seemed misplaced. He was gone. Dead. Publicly shamed. Crucified. Buried. It was over. Where was God, who had seemed to be with him in such power, displaying such love and grace through his words and works? This was a darkness darker than dark, a black hole of an abyss, a full-blown crisis of faith. Hopelessness.

We can see, however, two slight glimmers in the dark.

First, there is human companionship. Two walk side by side. Their spirits may be as dead and dry as sticks, but perhaps together they can produce a spark of hope.

Second, there is an unrecognized Presence. Even when the two travelers are prevented from knowing him, Jesus is with them. His questions prime the pump, get their attention, lift their eyes, get them thinking outside the box of their stunned grief. His presence adds an extra dimension to their fellowship, pulling them out of their tight huddle of mourning. His encouragement and instruction begins to renew feeling in their numb hearts and minds once more. Gently, he listens and responds. He doesn’t overwhelm them with advice or counsel, but simply helps them reframe their perspective and consider other possibilities. He creates curiosity, awakens a sense that there might be more to the story than the darkness they feel.

When we suffer loss, when we are hurting, when our faces are downcast, when we are sad of heart, we need a friend. And we need a Friend.

We need (and have access to) more too. But that awaits the rest of the story…

A Jesus Shaped Spirituality for such a time as This

Welcome to my new time slot! I am grateful to Chaplain Mike as it is much easier for me to write on Sunday night for a post on Monday. It gives me time to ruminate about my post throughout the weekend and allows me to better divide my work and personal life (Internet Monk falls into the personal category). One caveat: Chaplain Mike almost never sees what I write before the rest of you do. Sometimes I will give him a one or two sentence outline of where I think I might be headed.  So when I write what I write below, it is my own thoughts, and I don’t pretend to speak on behalf of Internet Monk as a whole.

——————————-

Today I want to welcome you inside my head as you follow my synapses down a stream of consciousness. I invite you to follow along with might be better described as a whirlwind,  rather than a flow, of ideas. Perhaps it will generate thoughts of your own in similar or dissimilar directions. You are are encouraged to share them in the comments below.

Many are you are familiar with Godwin’s law:

“As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches 1”. That is, if an online discussion (regardless of topic or scope) goes on long enough, sooner or later someone will compare someone or something to Adolf Hitler or his deeds, the point at which effectively the discussion or thread often ends.

We have experienced something similar at Internet Monk. Substitute “Trump” for “Hitler” and you see a similar scenario occurring. The comments descend into a vortex of nastiness, and for all intents and purposes the conversation ends.

[Oops, wayward synapse firing:

Our local aquarium has a special deal to those who are camping, or come dressed as an ocean mammal. Yes, for all in tents and porpoises it’s free!

Focus, Mike, focus. Okay, back on track again. ]

Read back through some of the posts. You will see that it is true. When Trump is invoked, the animosity increases, and the discussion ends.

Radagast had commented the following on Wednesday, and we can thank/blame him for initiating my particular thought process:

I am sure all folks here have great hearts, but the political bashing at a time when we should be coming together is too much for me right now. I am watching folks on my street from both sides of the political spectrum come together during this time. I am not seeing this here.

It got me thinking about how both sides of the political spectrum have come together in my own local situation up here in Canada. Both Conservative Provincial leaders and Liberal Federal leaders are receiving praise from the most unlikely sources.

While my feelings have not risen to a state of unabashed fandom, the burbling of a begrudging acknowledgement cannot be denied. I am going to say it, plainly and simply: Ontario Premier Doug Ford is doing an admirable job of shepherding the province, all of us, through this crisis. – Marie Henein (The Globe and Mail)

The prime minister appears in public every day, alone, outside his residence. He speaks sensibly, with authority, without hyperbole. This has been his finest hour.

Canadians trust him. They may not have voted for him – only about one-third did – but that doesn’t matter now. Nor do we question the competence of his ministers who are the other faces of the crisis – Chrystia Freeland, Marc Garneau, Patty Hajdu, Bill Blair. All are calm, competent and professional. This is what we want.

The provincial premiers, most of whom are not Liberals, have lost their congenital instinct to attack Ottawa. Doug Ford, no admirer of Justin Trudeau, now praises his leadership. – Andrew Cohen (The Ottawa Citizen)

I must confess that I did not vote for Ford, and I did not vote for Trudeau. In fact, a large part of me wants to shout out “Here is a long list of how they have failed their constituents both before and during this crisis!”

Then it hit me.

This is not how Jesus responded.

If we want to help each others achieve a Jesus Shaped Spirituality at a time like this (hence the headline), as followers of Jesus we need to respond in ways similar to how he responded.

Jesus did not come as a conquering Messiah, he came like a lamb to be sacrificed.

Jesus refused political power. (Temptation of Christ)

Jesus refused to be drawn into political debates. (Whose coin is this?)

Jesus welcomed those who were in bed with their Roman overlords (Zaccheus the Tax collector)

His criticism of the Pharisees and Chief Priests was not because because of their political connections, because of their hypocrisy.

In the Lord’s prayer, the call if for God to forgive us as we have forgiven others. (Not bless us and smite them)

In the Sermon on the mount his blessings are not on those who have power, but on those who don’t:

The Beatitudes
He said:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

An eye for an eye… becomes turn the other cheek.

“If anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well.”

He turned prejudices upside down in the story of the Good Samaritan, and calls us to not only love our neighbours, but love our enemies as well. [Wayward synapse firing – despite what this skit portrays. Other wayward synapse. I am always going to spell neighbour with a “u”]

So here is where my thoughts concluded…

Loving our neighbour can be done regarded of who is in power. I am seeing more expresses of love throughout this pandemic than I have seen in a long time. I have seen more friendliness from strangers that I have in a long time. [Wayward synapse – though it seemed strange to be wishing people a Happy Easter today in such stark times. ]

We can welcome the refugee among us regardless of the policies of those in power.

We are not constrained in our ability to feed the hungry and heal the sick.

We can offer acts of mercy, and forgive those who sin against us.

We can be lights in dark times. Our actions speak louder than words.

The picture above was taken Saturday while on a walk in my neighborhood. I had walked by this house for 25 years, and never really noticed the flowers before.  (And yes, my own house is considerably more modest.)

To spiritualize that thought a bit. This crisis is starting to open my eyes, to possibilities I have never imagined, and to things I have never seen.

May I continue to be “Jesus shaped” in all the ways that I respond.

As usual your thoughts and comments are welcome, although today I will be moderating carefully so that we don’t fall back into our own Godwin trap.

Holy Saturday 2020: God has been found among the dying and the dead

We sit down with tears
And call to you in your tomb
Rest gently, gently rest!
Rest, you exhausted limbs!
Your grave and tombstone
For our anguished conscience shall be
A pillow that gives peace and comfort
And the place where our souls find rest.
With the greatest content there our eyes will close in sleep.

English Translation by Francis Browne

• • •

However strange and shocking, would there be a Christian gospel were it not true that God has been found among the dying and the dead, where the absence of all life and hope and light proclaims that even God has gone away? Would there truly be forgiveness for the guilty, healing and wholeness for the broken, a home for the rejected, and a coming day of laughter for a world of tears, did God not know how to weep the tears of fear and loneliness, to endure the torments of hunger and disease, and to be identified with godforsakenness and transience?

Conversely, would there be a Christian gospel were it not true that God is self-unveiled only sub contrario, that is, in the very opposite of Godness, hidden amid the outcasts of the earth who, often in the name of God and of the church, are rejected and despised, and who, by the standards of the world, count for nothing except to live and die that the powerful might become more powerful still? The triumph of God over the grave of Jesus would truly be — as has all to often been assumed — permission for the followers of Jesus to flaunt their plumage of superiority in the face of others, were it not that God in humility ineffable has triumphed through the grave, for its many dis-graced, defeated victims and in the form of one of them. That form, first seen in a cradle, later on a cross, and finally as a corpse, is the shape of resurrection, and there is no other. Let others dream of divine salvation for the righteous and the wise, for those able to transcend the flesh and rise to heights of timelessness and sanctity; the gospel of Christ is for the mortal and the carnal, the earthbound and the sinner. For it was just as such a one that Jesus lived, and still as such a one, and in death, are God’s true power and life at work. It is to Christ’s all-too-human family, the fellowship of the weak, the guilty, and the moribund, that God’s gracious, loving hands stretch out; and only those prepared to suffer and to die in solidarity with Christ, acknowledging their own neediness and brokenness, truly know the sufficiency of grace and can witness to its healing.

• Alan E. Lewis, Between Cross and Resurrection: A Theology of Holy Saturday
(p. 90f)